


everybody's got a dark side (can you love mine?)

by carmillacatstein



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Anya and Wells are alive and they're staying that way, Betrayal, Clarke the Jedi in Training, Death of Significant Other, F/F, F/M, Family Member Death, Grief/Mourning, Lexa The Jedi Master, Lexa the General of the Rebellion, Lightsaber Battles, Minor Becho, Minor Character Death, Minor Jasper & Maya, Minor Kabby, Seduction to the Dark Side, Semi-Graphic Sex, Slow Burn, Some Graphic Violence, The Force, War-Like Situations, fucked up families, like reeeeaaallly fucked up, minor octaven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmillacatstein/pseuds/carmillacatstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clarke Griffin lost her parents, she resorted to thievery and the few friends she found along the way. When her band of thieves becomes enslaved by a group of space pirates, the last thing she expects is to escape with a high ranking soldier who would lead her right to General Lexa of the Rebellion, the last remaining Jedi in the galaxy - or so they thought.</p><p>or</p><p>the inevitable clexa star wars au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is, the long awaited Clexa Star Wars AU that I have raved about on my blog forever. I'll warn you now, Lexa isn't in the first chapter because it is mainly set up, but the second chapter will include Lexa and it should be posted within the next few days so I hope you're willing to give it a chance. Also, you do not need a huge understanding of Star Wars to read this except the basics. The rest will be explained in the fic when necessary.
> 
> So without further ado, enjoy! :)

It’s been six months and Clarke still can’t believe how she has ended up here.

Six months is all it took. Well, in actuality, it took six years for her to really get this low, but the last six months have basically been her undoing. Clarke Griffin, the most famous thief in the galaxy, captain of a band of criminals so clever they could rob the Hutts blind, enslaved by pirates for six months all because she dropped her guard for one second.

And it was all her fault, truly. She was - is - the captain of their group, she was responsible for piloting the ship. She hadn’t noticed that the freighter had been trailing them before it was too late. She is the reason her friends are all enslaved here with her.

Well, all except for one.

An abrupt smack to the back of her head pulls her out of the corners of her mind as she glances up at the man above her. He’s grumbling something, Clarke thinks she hears the words “lazy” and “pathetic”, before the voice demands she focus and get back to work.

If this were her ship, she would have blasted a hole through his goddamn chest for speaking to her that way. But it isn’t, so she leans over further and scrubs the floor of the dining hall with a renewed vigor and anger.

The guard that had hit her now sits in a chair by the door, munching obnoxiously on a piece of bread that looks gourmet compared to the scraps they feed her crew. Clarke’s stomach growls as he chews louder, jaw smacking as if he knows how hungry she is.

Clarke’s hand clenches into a fist around the rag in her hand. _One day._ She thinks. _One day you’ll get the hell out of here._

She’s been telling herself that for months and it’s starting to lose it’s touch.

Before Clarke can lose herself amongst her thoughts again, the door next to the guard slides open, another man entering abruptly to whisper in his ear. Her arm slows and her eyes watch their movements, until her guard is out of his seat and leaving the room, forgetting to shut the door behind him.

She thinks about running, sneaking out while whatever is going on is distracting the guards. But then she thinks of her friends, waiting for her to return later that night, worried because the last time one of them didn’t come back it was too late...

She sighs, throws the rag between her fingers into the bucket of water by her side, and sits up. Her hands subconsciously run through her hair, getting caught on the blonde, unwashed tangles. She’s not sure how much longer she can go on like this.

The second door to the dining hall, facing her back, opens and Clarke scrambles for the bucket. She really doesn’t feel like experiencing another shock lashing, so she avoids eye contact with whoever has decided to enter the room.

She stays hunched over, scrubbing away, until she hears a familiar voice speak up.

“Jeez, you scrub hard.” Wells jokes as his feet toe at the metal ground beneath them. “Is that how you’ve managed to keep your arms so built?”

“You shouldn’t be here, Wells. You’ll get in trouble.” Clarke drops the rag to the ground, refusing to turn around and look at him. “Besides, you’re just jealous because I arm wrestled Bellamy and won while you couldn’t.”

Wells’ laughter is as shy as usual, a sound Clarke hasn’t realized she missed until now. “Yeah, maybe just a bit.”

His voice sounds lighthearted and happy - Clarke can’t stand it. Nostalgia is overcome by a wave of bitterness as she snaps. “Jealousy isn’t a good color on you, Wells.” She stands, stretching out her sore knees. “Neither is betrayal but that didn’t seem to stop you.”

He stays silent as Clarke stretches out the joints she had been kneeling on for hours. When her legs start to shake from exertion, he speaks up. “Clarke, you’re going to pass out if you don’t sit down. Let me help.”

Clarke scoffs, moving in front of him and pulling up a chair for herself. “I can handle myself just fine, thanks. I don’t need you to look after me.”

“I’ve been looking after you for the past two years.” Wells sighs from where he stands, far enough away not to anger her. Smart decision. “Technically six if you want to go that far back.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the reason I need looking after.” Clarke draws in a deep breath before standing again. “I was doing just fine until you got my parents executed.”

Tension hangs in the air awkwardly, Wells shuffling on his feet and Clarke continuing to stretch. Truth is, she hasn’t forgiven Wells. She’s not sure she ever can. She’s smart enough to know they need each other, but needing and wanting are two very separate things.

Wells doesn’t get the chance to respond as they’re attention is drawn to the open door across from them. Close to fifteen guards are struggling at subduing the newest edition to the freighter’s collection of servants. At least, that’s what Clarke assumes she is. But she doesn’t look like your average slave; someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Her clothing is official and regal, pristine white cloth mixed with a type of armor Clarke feels as though she recognizes. She’s putting up a fight too, her dark blonde hair whipping back and forth as she tugs and struggles against the bonds around her wrists. But at least three guards have a grip on her all at once and her escape is utterly hopeless.

For a split second, Clarke’s eyes meet those of the other woman. She feels a twitch, somewhere in the back of her mind, but she can’t tell what it’s trying to say. Instead, she tries to portray how sorry she is in a single glance, but before she knows it, the blonde is being dragged down the hallway and out of her view.

Clarke notices immediately that they aren’t heading for the slave’s quarters. She moves swiftly to the door and peers around the corner, watching as they drag this mystery woman to the prison cells rather than to where slaves are housed and prepped. Wells is at her back, watching with the same interest, and when she feels his arm brush against her back she shoves him away coldly.

“She must be someone pretty important.” Wells remarks what Clarke had been thinking back to her. “I don’t think they brought her on board for another helping hand.”

Clarke nods before the familiar sound of a door sliding open cuts into the silence. They both whip around nervously, afraid Wells has been caught, before they see Maya with her hands raised in defense.

“Sorry.” She mutters quietly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Besides, you shouldn’t even be here, Wells. If they realize you left your post you’ll be in huge trouble.”

Silence falls among the three of them. They all know what kind of trouble falls on those who don’t obey the rules.

Wells simply nods. “I’ll sneak back while they’re distracted. See you later, Clarke.”

He exits the way he came in and Clarke is left alone with Maya.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asks immediately, wondering why Maya sought her out. “Is Jasper okay?”

Maya nods. “Yeah, he’s fine. I actually just came to grab him some extra bread for you guys tonight. It’s easiest for him to sneak it in.”

Clarke smiles at her. She doesn’t know how they would have gotten through captivity this long without starving if Maya hadn’t been selfless enough to help them. No wonder Jasper fell for her.

As Maya begins to stuff extra rolls into a bag, Clarke’s curiosity gets the better of her. “Hey, Maya.” She calls to get her attention. “Do you know anything about that woman they brought on today?”

Maya sighs and shakes her head. “Not really. They don’t tell me much. Just that she’s a prisoner, not a slave, and that they’re going to interrogate her.”

“Interrogate?” Clarke remarks and Maya nods. She can picture what that entails.

“Clarke, try and lay low.” Maya warns. “You know how dangerous Cage is when he’s stressed, and if this woman is as important as they’re making her out to be, he’s going to be very stressed.”

“I will.” Clarke assures as Maya closes the bag wrapped around her hip. “Thank you.”

Maya’s nod is sheepish as she exits and Clarke kneels back down. A guard should be returning to collect her any minute. She picks up the rag and wrings it out, watching the water drop and ripple against the bucket’s frame.

\------------------------------

Clarke is the last one to be returned to their quarters, as she was responsible for cleaning the dining hall after they had all eaten, and as soon as she steps foot in the room, things grow quieter. The only sound she hears is the door behind her sliding shut and a lock clicking in place.

The silence doesn’t last and mostly everyone resumes their activities. Bellamy, Octavia, and Wells are playing a type of card game they invented, but the laughter and chatter is quieter than before she entered. Jasper and Monty rest on the former’s cot, who looks absolutely content as he prattles on about Maya and Monty laughs along. Raven is sitting alone, fiddling with the necklace Finn gave her between her fingers, eyes never once looking up.

Clarke walks by the barren cot that has been left in the room for the last three months. It’s empty, completely untouched. That has been the unspoken rule amongst the group since it happened: don’t touch all that’s left of him.

Clarke immediately drops from exhaustion once she reaches her own cot. She wishes she could just pass out now but her feet are sore and the old pair of boots on her feet are squeezing around blistering flesh that is screaming to be let free. She leans over, using calloused, tired fingers to unlace the shoes as her mind wanders. She breathes through her nose and her face scrunches, wishing they had spare clothing and more opportunities to bathe. The room is starting to wreak, she thinks, as she yanks the last boot off her feet.

She’s about to lay down when she feels the cot dip besides her, only to be greeted by Bellamy’s rough voice.

“How you holding up?” He asks, as he always does. She appreciates him for it, but she wishes he would stop. Her answer is the same every time and so is his response.

“You already know.” It’s the only response she has the energy to give and he shrugs.

“You seem different today.” He nudges her shoulder with his. “Something happen? Did they hurt you?”

His voice grows protective and she calms him immediately. It’s the same tone he always gets with Octavia and her heart swells at the realization.

“No, I’m fine. It’s just…” She begins and he watches her intently, listening until she’s ready. “I don’t know. Between Wells and Raven...it’s a lot to handle.”

“I know you don’t want to hear it.” He begins, running a hand over the back of his neck. “But how can you expect Raven to forgive you after three months when you haven’t forgiven Wells after six years?”

“You’re right.” Clarke nods as she meets his eyes. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Alright, then. Anything else you’d like to discuss today, Princess?” He asks. The nickname stings but she brushes it off.

“They brought someone else on the freighter today.” She begins and Bellamy’s back straightens at that.

“If that’s true, why isn’t she in here with us?”

“She’s not a slave, she’s a prisoner.” Clarke counters. “It’s weird, Bellamy. All the guards are acting strange and I got this strange feeling when I saw her.”

“Ah, so you’re weird intuition is acting up again.” He snarks and she sighs.

“I’m serious, Bellamy.” Her voice is pleading, insistent. “Something is off.”

He hesitates before nodding. “I believe you.” He rises to his feet, signalling the end of this conversation. “Just try not to get your hopes up.”

She knows why he says it. The last time she had this feeling, one of them ended up dead. But she can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

\------------------------------

As promptly as ever, they all line up the next morning in front of the door to their collective bedroom before it even opens. Clarke is tired. She’s never been a morning person and she hasn’t gotten used to being woken at the ass crack of dawn to be put to work yet, even after six months.

Orders are rattled off as they go down the line and she thinks she hears that Jasper is assigned to dining hall duty. She smiles for him. It’s the easiest post for Maya to meet him at without appearing suspicious.

At least one of them still has a reason for hope.

Clarke comes face to face with the guard who had hit her yesterday and her eyes harden. _Bastard._ She thinks inwardly as he looks at her with disapproval.

“Prison duty. Clean the empty cells.” His voice drones as she is grabbed by the arm and escorted towards her place of work for the day.

A guard is already stationed outside of the prison wing, who opens the door for her to be shoved through. Once she regains her footing, she turns and sees the man who escorted her there point to a bucket in the corner as the door slams shut in her face.

She’s alone, for what feels like the first time in forever. The only guard is posted outside, due to the fact that no one can open the door from the inside without a key, and the silence is strange.

A long hallway of open cells stretches out in front of her and she sighs, taking in the amount of work she has to get done. She grabs the pail and cloth from the corner, knowing if she doesn’t work she’ll be punished. Each cell is open and waiting for her, filthy, as if they hadn’t been cleaned in years. They probably haven’t. Pirates don’t have much use for a prison, not until recently.

It’s then she remembers the events of the day before. She exits the cell she had been cleaning, leaving the washing supplies behind as she searches for a closed door.

She finds it at the end of the hall. The solid door is locked shut, except for a slot for food to be passed through and a small window above it. Clarke gazes inside hesitantly and is met by dark, angry eyes.

The woman’s face is bruised, an eye swollen shut due to the purple mass of her injury. Blood has dried beneath her nose and over her lips as a gash lay across the bridge of the appendage. Her eyes meet Clarke’s, not daring to look away. She scans Clarke over, what she can see at least, before speaking.

“I take it you aren’t hear to finish the job?” Her voice is hoarse. She probably hasn’t had water since they brought her in.

“If by job, you mean clean the floors, then, yeah, I am actually.” She replies, prompting a small smile from the woman on the other side of the glass.

“Humor. That’s nice to hear for a change.” She shifts slightly, holding her abdomen as she sits.

“Not a lot of comedians where you come from?” Clarke asks, excited to be holding her first conversation with a stranger in months.

The older woman laughs a bit. “Hardly. I’m afraid the Rebellion is all about business, not pleasure.”

Clarke halts at that, blue eyes alight with curiosity. “You’re with the Rebellion?” She nods and Clarke comes to a realization. “So that’s why they interrogated you and locked you up in here?”

“Yep.” Her voice is strangely chipper for someone who was just beaten for information. “I was escorting a routine recon team when they caught me. They were afraid the Rebellion was scouting them.” She chuckles and shakes her head, a matted lock of bloody hair falling across her eye. “As if we don’t have bigger things to worry about than a load of space scum.”

“You must be pretty important if they thought you could give them that information.” Clarke is prying, she knows that, but she wants as much information on this stranger as she can get.

“You could say that.” She remains tight lipped, but continues. “My name is Anya.”

“Clarke.” She responds immediately and Anya smiles.

“So, Clarke,” Anya begins as she approaches the window. Her eyes roam the hallway, making sure it’s clear. “You come up with a way out of here yet?”

“If I had, I would’ve left already.” Her tone is honest and Anya seems to understand.

“What do you say you and I come up with one?” Anya inquires and Clarke smirks. “You can’t tell me you haven’t come up with at least one crazy idea about how to get out of this piece of junk.”

She has, and she tells Anya so. “I’ll come back for you as soon as possible. I know who to go to.”

Anya nods, as if dismissing her. The older woman is clearly used to giving and receiving orders.

Clarke backs away from the cell slowly, before returning to the cell she had been previously cleaning. She is stuck in this hall until dinner, so she might as well do something to quell her racing thoughts.

\------------------------------

“And this time, the bread doesn’t even have mold on it.” Clarke grumbles, seating herself on the cool metal bench of one of the dining hall tables. “How generous.”

Bellamy chuckles next to her as Octavia leans around him to speak. “I actually think we ate more food when we were thieves.”

“Ah, free will.” Monty mocks. “Don’t you miss it?”

Jasper tosses a piece of his stale bread at his friend who swats it away. Wells laughs from beside them, sneaking an extra piece to throw at Jasper when his back is turned to him. The crumb lands in the bangs of shaggy, dark hair and laughter filters the air for a short moment.

The laughter abruptly stops when Raven’s voice rings louder than their bellows. “Well, at least we know who to blame for our lack of free will.”

Everyone stops, eyes roaming from Raven to Clarke, before gauging the reactions from the other members of the group. Clarke’s chest burns, an ache that hasn’t left since the day he died. She glances at Raven, who is tearing at the bread on her plate angrily, and she has to look away. The rest of dinner is eaten in silence, the soft sound of chewing and nervous fidgeting the only sounds in the room.

Maya’s hurried steps are the first noise to break the silence. She tries to meet with them every day while they’re eating dinner, when she can, and she strides into the dining hall barely noticing the tension.

“Hi, guys.” She smiles, pulling a chair up next to Jasper so she’s sat practically across from Clarke.

 _Perfect._ Clarke thinks. She has to talk to her.

Clarke waits as patiently as she can, letting Jasper and Maya have their moment, but she can only listen to them gush over each other for so long before she’s cutting into their conversation.

“Maya, I need to ask you something.” Her tone is serious and the rest of the group tunes in immediately.

“Yeah, anything Clarke.” Maya responds, as eager to help as always.

“I need you to help us escape.” Clarke whispers as she leans in closer to Maya, whose eyes are wide and nervous. “Can you do that?”

Maya hesitates before her gaze hardens. “When?”

“Tonight.” Her friends all gasp, chiming in with wonder.

“Clarke, what are you talking about?” Wells stutters, his tone hopeful and supportive.

“I can get us out.” She assures, her gaze meeting everyone’s at the table, lingering for a second longer on Raven. “I just need a key card with access to the prison cells and the slaves’ quarters.” She turns back to Maya. “That’s where you come in. Can you get me one?”

Maya stares down at the tight grip Jasper has on her hand before releasing him to reach into her pocket. She pulls out a key card, her key card, and folds it between Clarke’s fingers.

“This should give you access to anywhere you need to go.” Her voice quivers as she stands from her seat. “If you’re going to do this, you’ve got to do it now Clarke. The guards will be here any minute to escort you all back.”

Clarke nods and stands. Bellamy is up on his feet as well, stopping her with a grip to her arm. “And what do we do?”

“Just be ready to go when I get there.” It’s the only thing she can say.

Maya gives Jasper a soft, lingering kiss before her and Clarke make their way to the back door. Before they exit, Clarke stops her, asking the question that has been lingering at the back of her mind.

“The key card, will they know it’s yours?” Clarke whispers, quiet enough so the others won’t hear. Maya nods and Clarke sighs. “Thank you, Maya. For everything.”

“You too. Be careful.” Her hand rests on Clarke’s arm for a short moment before she slips out the door.

Clarke looks back at her friends and inhales a deep, shuddering breath before quietly stepping out into the shadowed hallways.

\------------------------------

Clarke is an observant person and she’s never been more grateful for that than in this moment. She’s used to being escorted everywhere in this metal prison, to dinner, to work, to sleep every night. But she’s paid attention and learned the layout solely for this moment because she knew the day would come eventually.

The prison wing is easy enough to find her way back to, despite having to take every back, hidden hallway possible to avoid being caught. Clarke lurks among the shadows to take a breather and assess the situation. She peers around the cold wall her back is pressed against, noticing that the same guard from earlier is still posted outside the door. His back is facing towards her as his attention is directed towards the more open hallway across from her.

Perfect.

Clarke scans her surroundings, looking for some kind of weapon. She quickly finds one, noticing a metal rod attached horizontally to the wall. She grips it tightly before pulling in the opposite direction, all her weight hanging against it. It screeches as it breaks free and Clarke stumbles backwards at the loss of balance.

She hears the guard’s footsteps turn towards her and she freezes.

All she can do is wait. She keeps her back pressed against the steel wall, weapon in hand clutched tightly to her chest. She can see a slight shadow of a man begin to approach and just as she sees the barrel of a blaster move around the corner, she springs into action.

She brings the metal down on the top of the barrel with as much strength as she can muster and it fumbles from the guard’s grip. He scrambles for it and Clarke smirks. Big mistake.

As he’s bent over, she brings the metal to the back of his skull and he drops forward onto his stomach, unconscious.

Yeah, she’s still got it.

Her feet carry her to the prison door on their own, as she fumbles for the key card in her pocket. She nervously runs it through the lock, foot tapping as she waits for the light to shift from red to green.

It does. She hears the lock click and the door slides open to her relief.

She doesn’t hesitate and sprints down the corridor, each footstep echoing off the metal grates below her feet. Anya must have heard her coming as she’s already on her feet by the door once Clarke arrives.

“Took you long enough.” Anya snarks as Clarke uses the key card once again.

“It’s been like four hours.” Clarke’s breaths are falling heavily from her lips as Anya steps out of her cell.

She’s still injured, but she seems better than she did a few hours ago. She has a slight limp in her walk and her vision is most definitely impaired from her swollen eye. But Clarke saw the fight she put up while they were dragging her in. They have a chance. For the first time in six months, she has a chance.

Anya pushes past the obvious pain she’s in as she stands up straight, clenching at her abdomen. She meets Clarke’s eyes and stretches out her other arm.

“Lieutenant Anya Woods.” It’s the first time she’s revealed her full name and rank to Clarke, who refuses to let the opportunity pass.

She grasps Anya’s wrist in hers. “Clarke Griffin, smuggler extraordinaire.”

Clarke’s not sure if Anya has truly processed what she said. Her face has shifted into an expression of shock, of hope, of complete disbelief.

“Clarke...Griffin?” She asks, as if clarifying the impossible. When Clarke nods, Anya shakes her head. Her voice is delicate as she replies. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” Clarke snaps, utterly confused as to why a complete stranger seems to be so fascinated by her goddamn name. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Anya smiles. “But we need to get you out of here and to the main base.”

Anya begins to jog down the hallway, wincing with each step she takes. “What? Why?” Clarke has never been more lost in her life, and that’s saying something. “I’m just a thief, I doubt the Rebellion is that concerned with petty crimes.”

“No, it’s not that.” Anya interrupts as they reach the door. She leans over the still unconscious guard, grabbing the blaster that rests next to him. “We’ve been looking for you for years.”

“But why?” Clarke insists, grabbing Anya by the wrist and watching her face flinch. “What makes me so special?”

Anya sighs in exasperation. “I’d love to have story time right now, Clarke, but if you haven’t noticed, we’re in the midst of breaking out of prison so we have to get moving.” She steps into Clarke’s space, a sincere look on her face. “I will explain more once we’re safe, but for now you need to trust me so we can get our asses out of here.” Mere seconds pass before Clarke is nodding and Anya sighs in relief. “Great. We can steal a ship from the departure bay, shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Wait.” Clarke cuts Anya off, who is already moving through the hallways. “I’m not leaving without my friends.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Anya continues searching, peering down each hallway as they walk.

“You don’t know this place like I do. You’ll be lost in seconds and I am not leaving this freighter without my people.” That stops Anya in her tracks. Clarke is right and she knows it.

Anya throws her head back in defeat. “God, you are just like your mother.”

“Wait, you knew my mother?” Clarke’s heart leaps at the notion.

Anya’s eyes widen at her slip. “Something like that. Let’s go get your people.”

Clarke notices the change in subject but she goes along. She’ll confront Anya once they get her ship back and they’re not out in the open, completely exposed.

Clarke maneuvers them through the maze of hallways with ease. Within minutes, they’re at the slaves’ quarters, and before Clarke can make any suggestions, Anya takes the guard out with a quick shot the chest.

“That works.” Clarke shrugs and opens the door.

Everyone is on their feet, watching her with wide eyes, wondering what to do.

“Let’s get out of here.” Clarke smiles and the group responds the same. They file out of the room swiftly and Clarke takes one last glance around the room. Her eyes linger on Finn’s bed, still empty, still untouched.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers to no one but herself before the door slides closed in front of her.

The group is looking at Anya wearily, unaware of who their new ally is. Clarke takes the blaster holstered at the now dead guard’s hip, handing the metal rod she had been using off to Bellamy.

“Let’s go steal our ship back.” She smirks, beginning the march to the docking bay.

It’s by far the most crowded area of the freighter. There’s people everywhere; armed guards, pilots, thieves, all gathered in this one area. The group halts in a hidden entrance, assessing what to do next. Clarke edges forward slightly, eyes moving quickly as she scans for what she’s searching for.

A smile lights up her face as her eyes land on it. “There she is.”

Anya moves to her side and follows the finger Clarke has outstretched before she scoffs. “That’s your ship?”

It’s large and circular, big enough to house the group of thieves for the past two years while they were on the run. The outside is rusty, beaten and worn down after decades of use from the previous owner’s Clarke and Wells had stolen it from.

“Hey, she may not look pretty, but she runs like a charm.” Clarke assures and Anya sighs.

She seems to be getting very tired of Clarke, very quickly, but maybe that’s just how she is.

“We’ll stay close to the walls, out of sight.” Clarke orders. They form a line, Bellamy behind her, Anya covering their back. The only one not in line is Jasper as he backs away from them.

“Wait.” He calls, drawing everyone’s attention. “What about Maya?”

Clarke approaches him first. “Jasper, we don’t have the time to go back for her.”

“She’s helped us all this time. We have to go back for her.” His voice is getting louder as he gets more worked up.

“Jasper, please.” Clarke begs, putting a hand on his. “We have to go now.”

“No, Clarke!” Jasper yanks away from her, voice raising. “They’ll kill her! We can’t just leave her!”

“Will somebody please shut this kid up?” Anya whispers the order.

Monty steps forward next. “Jasper, come on. We have to go.”

His best friend’s voice does nothing to calm him down. “How can you all just leave her? How could you?”

His rant is cut off when Bellamy hits him over the head with the metal bar Clarke had previously wielded. Monty catches Jasper before he can fall and Bellamy helps hold him up between the two of them.

Clarke turns, nods to Anya, takes up her position back at the head of line, and they move out.

They move as quickly as they can, with the collective shape the group is in. They walk silently, sneaking among the shadows and behind the metal masses of different ships. Their footsteps are as quiet as a pin drop amongst the busy noise of the bay and not one person notices them as the make their way across the expanse of the freighter to Clarke’s ship.

It’s easy enough to get them all inside. The door of the ship can be opened from the outside and the sound of its descent is swallowed amongst the chaotic sounds of the others. They’ve all boarded the ship in no time, seconds away from escape, when Clarke comes to a heavy realization.

“Now for the fun part.” She chimes, throwing herself down in the pilot’s seat. Bellamy takes the seat next to her, as per usual, Anya behind them.

“Wells, Octavia, I’m gonna need you on the gunner’s posts.” Clarke calls out orders, flipping switches and preparing for launch. “They’re gonna come at us with everything they’ve got.”

Her chair spins, watching the two descend down separate ladders to their stations. “Monty, Raven, I’m going to need your help if we’re going to get this thing up and going.”

“I thought you said this ship works.” Anya calls from beside her.

“It does. It did.” Clarke motions to Bellamy who is also hard at work on the control panel. “But she hasn’t flown in six months. It might be a bumpy ride.”

Just as the words leave Clarke’s mouth, the ship jerks, thrusters kicking in. Clarke spins to see Monty, kneeling by the floor, a chuck of wires that are still sparking in his fingers.

“Fixed it.” He shrugs and Clarke smiles.

“Alright. Let’s get out of here.” Clarke’s hands grip the controls as she lifts upwards. The ship rises and spins until they’re met with resistance. Anyone who had remained on their feet stumbles as blast after blast connects with the outer walls of the ship.

“Take them out guys!” Clarke yells, prompting Wells and Octavia into action.

They’re being shot at from every direction, the ship shakes against the damage but Clarke holds tight. Wells and Octavia counter their assailants, firing back as quickly as they can.

“Clarke.” It’s Raven’s voice and Clarke pauses for a second, shocked at the fact she’s even talking to her. “How do we know their shields aren’t up and we aren’t about to fly straight into a wall?”

Clarke hadn’t thought of that. She shrugs.

“We don’t.”

“Great.” Raven sighs, going to work with Monty on whatever it is he is fiddling with.

Clarke lifts the ship despite their attackers. “Here goes nothing.”

She takes one glance at Bellamy before hauling the ship forward and they’re flying through the open door of the freighter within seconds.

She hears the whoops and yells of the whole gang, smiling as she watches the freighter grow smaller and smaller in the distance. Bellamy claps a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly before she stands.

“Take over for a second.” He nods and moves into her chair, piloting temporarily.

Anya stands to the side, watching the friends celebrate, before her eyes meet Clarke’s. She had been waiting for Clarke to approach her.

“You said you would explain.” It’s all Clarke says and Anya nods.

“What do you know about your parents, Clarke?”

The question stings. It’s not something she talks about very often. “They died when I was twelve. Not much.”

“This is something you shouldn’t hear from me.” Anya’s hands clench and unclench as she speaks. “There is so much about your family that you don’t know and if you come with me, there are people who can tell you all you need to know.”

“Where?” Clarke questions. “A hidden Rebellion base?”

Anya nods and Clarke head spins as she absorbs the looks of the crowd that has gathered around them.

“If it isn’t okay with you guys then…” She is interrupted when Octavia steps up beside her.

“Of course it’s okay with us.” She smiles and Monty chimes in.

“This _is_ your ship.” His arms are wrapped around himself. “Besides, where the hell else would we go?”

“Good. You guys got a radio on this hunk of junk?” Anya questions and Clarke nods, leading the way to the radio.

Anya fiddles with the radio until she finds the channel she’s looking for, bringing the receiver to her lips.

“Come in, Ileenium Base. Come in.” She pauses with the microphone against her forehead, waiting and tapping her leg impatiently. “Please, come in.”

After another moment’s hesitation, a crackled voice responds. “Caller, please identify.”

Anya visibly fills with relief as she drops herself in the co-pilot’s seat. “This is Lieutenant Woods. I was captured but I am returning to base with seven other passengers.” She pauses for a second, eyes meeting Clarke’s.

“Inform the General that I found Clarke Griffin.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is chapter 2 as promised! It's not as edited as I would have liked it to be, so if anyone notices any mistakes please feel free to let me know! So Clarke finally meets the General she has heard so much about. Bet you can take a wild guess who that is ;)  
> Anyways, please enjoy!

Clarke isn’t sure what she expected of this hidden Rebellion base she is currently being lead to, but her expectations certainly aren’t what she is greeted with. The first thing her eyes see is green, lots and lots of green. Trees, wide open fields full of life, and vegetation stretch out before her for ages. She then notices the landing strip below her, bustling, full of even more people than there is green and her breath catches.

She grew up alone, with only her family and Wells by her side. She’s never seen this many people in one place before.

As the crowd begins to notice the ship’s approach, their reaction is definite. Some grab a hold of others in a tight grip, some point and stair, others cheer as loud as their lungs will allow.

Clarke thinks they must be cheering for the return of their lost Lieutenant Woods. There’s no way they’re cheering for herself. Anya had said they were looking for her, but this reaction simply doesn’t make sense.

She lands the ship with steady hands, her firm grip never shaking despite the confusion whirring through her brain. Clarke notices the smile on Anya’s face as soon as the ship jerks to rest and she stands to meet the soldier’s eyes.

“Lead the way.” Clarke instructs and Anya nods.

“All of you,” Anya’s voice echos off the metal of the ship. “Follow me and don’t get lost.”

Clarke notices the ease with which Anya gives orders and how naturally she expects them to be followed. She doesn’t hesitate to follow her new ally into the crowd of people waiting outside.

The minute the door opens, Clarke’s hearing is engulfed in the roar of the base. Voices all around her are whispering and talking. Wandering eyes scan over the group of newcomers while hesitating on her, causing gasps to ring out amongst the crowd. She almost gets lost amongst the excitement until she feels Anya place a tight grip around her wrist.

She must be more important than she thinks she is.

Clarke takes a moment to look around at her friends. They all seem as lost as Clarke feels. Jasper is just coming to, leaning against Monty who has a matching puzzled expression. Raven walks alone, taking in the heavy duty machinery around them in bewilderment. The Blake siblings walk arm in arm, Octavia’s face the picture of awe as Bellamy’s eyes flicker defensively. Wells is right behind her, with a similar look of protectiveness burning in his pupils.

Anya’s voice pulls Clarke out of her exploration, back into the present moment. She hadn’t noticed, but Anya had slowly guided her through the crowd until they were face to face with two people. Both are donned in grey uniforms and black vests, similar to Anya’s, yet less extravagant.

The man, a tall, dark soldier speaks first, addressing Anya with what sounds like respect. “Lieutenant.” She nods in response to his greeting, then raises her chin. “Do you need medical attention?”

She shakes her head immediately. “I’m fine, Lincoln. Just take us to the General.”

He nods and the female soldier, who Anya addresses as Echo, steps aside as Lincoln walks ahead of them, no doubt leading them to the general that keeps being mentioned.

Clarke has traveled all over the galaxy. She has heard the rumors about the Rebel Alliance and their general, and she would be lying if she says her stomach isn’t fluttering in curiosity at the prospect of meeting her.

Clarke stumbles along blindly, Anya’s grip still tight on her wrist to prevent her from getting separated. They enter the large, concrete building on the edge of the landing strip and step out of the bright sunlight into the fluorescently lit Rebel base. They enter through the departure bay, surrounded by dozens of X-wing fighters Clarke has only ever heard about. She notices Raven drooling out of the corner of her eyes and smiles. She hasn’t seen her friend this happy in months. She missed it.

If Clarke had thought the pirates’ freighter was confusing, then the base has to be considered a maze. Clarke takes a second to applaud whoever designed it. Anyone attacking would struggle in finding their way around. Only those on the inside can do that, and Clarke realizes the genius of it right away.

Lincoln stops when they finally arrive at their destination, typing a code into a keypad before a metal door slides open. He steps to the side of the door, Echo moving to the other, and they both sand, chins up, shoulders back.

Anya drags Clarke into a brightly lit room before finally dropping her wrist. A computerized table rests in the center of the room, dozens of chairs around it. Two chairs are currently taken but their residents stand as they enter.

They are both dressed similarly to Anya as well, their uniforms signifying they are important yet distinguishing from Anya only slightly.

“Admiral Kane, Sergeant Ward, it’s good to see you again.” She shakes each of their hands in greeting. The woman, who Kane had referred to as Indra, is stern faced while he has a smile on his lips and excitement in his body language.

“You as well, Lieutenant.” He speaks as his eyes wander to the group of Clarke’s friends. His eyes stop on Clarke and the words die on his lips with a breath. “You really found her.”

Indra’s eyes drift to Clarke at his words and the brown irises widen in surprise. Anya turns to face Clarke, noticing the nervous twitch in her fingers at the attention.

“Clarke, you should sit.” Anya gestures to a chair, but Clarke doesn’t want to sit. She wants to know what’s going on and what it all has to do with her.

“I’ll stand.” She counters and Indra tilts her head as Kane smiles. “I’ll stand until someone explains to me what the hell is going on.”

Anya moves close enough to whisper to Clarke. “Someone is on their way right now to do just that, Clarke. Please, just sit and relax-”

Anya’s sentence falls short as the door opens and another woman rushes in. All eyes turn to the older brunette as she stumbles through the room with searching eyes.

When Clarke’s eyes meet hers, she understands why Anya had wanted her to sit. Her knees wobble and her mind reels in shock as the woman pushes her friends out of the way and hurries towards her. Once they’re face to face, a practiced hand runs along Clarke’s cheek, pushing a blonde lock out of her eye. 

Clarke’s eyelids blink quickly. _This can’t be real._ She thinks as she scans the face before her. It’s been six years, but Clarke would recognize her face anywhere.

“Clarke.” The voice is so familiar, so _real_ , that Clarke can no longer hold herself together. Her eyes water and she gasps for air as she throws herself into the arms of the woman before her.

“Mom.” She cries. Her mother’s grip tightens around her immediately and she sobs at the display. A hand gently strokes the back of her head and Clarke chokes up as memories flood through her brain and continue to spill out in tears.

“You were dead.” Her voice is husked from tears and she clutches tighter to her mother. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m here, Clarke.” Her mother whispers soothingly as she used to do when Clarke woke from a nightmare. “I’m right here.”

Clarke buries her nose in her mother’s neck, inhaling the familiar cent. Abby’s brown hair falls across her face, tickling her cheeks and Clarke smiles at the warmth swelling within her.

The moment is interrupted though when the door opens once again. Clarke’s eyes open to observe who has just entered when her mother slowly pulls out of the hug and faces the door.

The woman who entered is dressed nothing like the others. Even her mother and the man that had followed the young woman in are dressed in similar grey clothing. But this new person looks nothing like the rest.

She’s clothed in all black, a strong distinction from the typical grey of rebel uniforms that Clarke has seen. Her clothing is flowing yet armored, a large shoulder guard connecting to a flowing orange sash that falls behind her and drapes across the ground elegantly.

She storms into the room confidently, an air of authority surrounding her entrance. The emotion in the room shifts and she comes to a halt in front of the group, arms clasper behind her back in a stance of power.

Her eyes are a bright green as they meet Clarke’s for the first time, and Clarke gasps as she had when she was overwhelmed by the abundant beauty of the green just outside the compound.

Her eyes linger on Clarke for only a second before she changes direction to Clarke’s mother and then finally to Anya. The woman’s face shifts only slightly as she sees the Lieutenant, before she reels whatever she had been thinking back into place.

“Lieutenant Woods.” Her voice is as authoritative as her outward appearance and Clarke shudders at the harsh grumble. “I’m glad you are alive and well. We will need to meet later for a full status report of the situation.”

“Yes, General.” Anya responds, a slight bow to her head. The general’s eyes meet Anya’s for a short moment and Clarke can see they’re full of a relief that the young woman has not spoken.

The general takes a breath before turning to face Clarke and her mother. “I apologize, Doctor Griffin, for interrupting your reunion with your daughter, but unfortunately the matter at hand cannot wait to be discussed.”

Her mother nods and Clarke watches her response as she speaks. “What matter? I still have no idea what’s going on.”

“The matter of your training.” The general responds directly to Clarke, their eyes connecting once again. “The Force is strong within you. I can feel it.”

“The Force?” As soon as the words leave Clarke’s mouth, she notices the metallic hilt that is strapped to the general’s hip. Her eyes focus on it as a strange feeling builds up in her gut.

The general’s gaze lingers on Clarke, hesitating before she speaks again. “Lincoln, Echo.” The two soldiers stand at attention immediately. “Escort our new guests to their living quarters. I would like to speak to Doctor Griffin and her daughter alone.” 

Lincoln and Echo respond with a simultaneous, “Yes, General,” before opening the door and guiding her friends out. Clarke watches them go, her eyes connecting with Wells’ which hold an expression she can’t quite make out, before the door slides shut and she is alone with her mother and a room of strangers.

As soon as the door clicks behind her, the general’s eyes meet Clarke’s once again. “Please.” She gestures to the table close by. “Have a seat.”

\------------------------------

“To the left you’ll see the docking bay where you entered not long ago.” Bellamy can hear Lincoln’s voice strain over the ever busy noise of the base as he shows the group of thieves around. “To your right are the training facilities for new recruits.”

He continues on, the grouping following behind him fascinated. Octavia trails behind him closely, eyes wandering, hanging onto his every word. She seems to interject with a new question every time he shows them something new, and now is not an exception.

“Will we be able to be trained?” Octavia’s voice is excited at the prospect and Bellamy clenches his jaw. Leave it to his sister to want to throw herself into the midst of an inter-galactic war. 

“That’s up to the General, not me.” He responds, a tone of remorse in his voice. Octavia nods understandingly, smiling up at him as he continues on with his tour. Eventually, Lincoln’s loud yells of instruction become quieter and turn into a conversation between just him and Octavia.

Bellamy considers interrupting. He doesn’t like the idea of his sister getting all these ideas in her head about this place and what she can do here. He is seconds away from acting on his thoughts when a voice beside him speaks up.

“How did you all come across Clarke Griffin, anyway?” The voice belongs to the female trooper that has been following them around all day. She hardly speaks as much as Lincoln. Actually, she doesn’t speak at all.

Bellamy’s face shifts at the inquisition about Clarke, shoulders widening in defense of his friend. “Why does that matter?”

The woman, Echo, he believes, raises an eyebrow at his defensiveness. “Because the Rebellion has spent years searching for her and I can’t help but wonder how you found her and we didn’t.”

She seems a bit angry having to explain herself. Her face is unpleasant, as if she is wishing she had never started the conversation in the first place. Bellamy hadn’t meant to be rude, but Clarke saved not only himself, but his sister. For that, he owed her his life, and he cared for her about as much as he cared for Octavia.

“Sorry.” He mumbles and Echo quirks an eyebrow. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Clearly rude is just a part of your personality.” She looks ahead when Bellamy turns to meet her gaze.

“We were all struggling, nowhere to go.” Bellamy started, preparing himself for a brief explanation. “Clarke slowly found us all. She saved us.”

Echo doesn’t look at him, but he can tell by the tilt of her head that Echo is listening intently. “She sounds impressive.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Yeah, you could say it like that.”

Echo hesitates before she begins to ask questions. “Is Clarke really Doctor Griffin’s daughter?”

Bellamy nods. “I believe so. She thought she was dead but, apparently not.”

“Did she ever talk about her father with you?” Echo speaks her question before he barely finishes his answer to the previous.

He furrows his eyebrow at her curiosity but answers. “Not really. She preferred not to talk about her parents.” He watches Echo from the corner of his eye. “Why are you so interested?”

Echo’s shoulders tense slightly before she responds. “Like I said, I’ve been on more missions than I can count in an attempt to find Clarke Griffin. Can’t blame a girl for being interested.”

“Fair enough.” Bellamy smiles as he responds and Echo stares at him quizzically. 

“What’s the deal with the rest of them?” Echo nudges her head in the direction of the group behind them. Raven and Jasper are silent as Monty tries to plead with Jasper to talk to him. Wells is fiddling with his fingers, most definitely worrying about Clarke.

Bellamy sighs deeply before he finally works up an answer. “It’s been a long few months.”

“Fair enough.” Echo counters with a teasing smirk that matches Bellamy’s.

\------------------------------

Clarke is absolutely fascinated by the spread of the table in front of her. Buttons cover the expanse in front of her, labeled as different maps, plans, battle strategies, each file holding infinite amounts of information. 

Her fingers run over them as they all take their seats, her mother sitting to her left immediately. The general sits across from her in the circular arrangement, never taking her eyes off of her. The large bearded man Clarke had figured out to be the general’s bodyguard, stands behind her attentively. She thinks she heard Anya, who has just taken her seat at Lexa’s right hand, call him Gustus. Sergeant Indra takes her seat to the general’s left, still maintaining her threatening glare.

To Clarke’s surprise, the man named Kane whom she learned to be one of Lexa’s closest advisers takes the seat next to her mother, choosing to sit on their side of the divided room. 

Clarke’s mother is the first to speak, breaking the silence that had settled as they arranged themselves. “With all do respect, General Lexa, I haven’t seen my daughter in six years. I would like some time alone with her.”

_Lexa._ Clarke notices the use of her first name after her title, a certain rarity amongst the base. The only time she has heard first names amongst the Rebellion army has been in direction to Lincoln and Echo or amongst the friends she sees around her. Not once has Lexa referred to any of her higher ranking officials by first name. Clarke can’t help but wonder why Lexa let them call her by hers.

“I understand, Doctor Griffin.” Lexa nods in acceptance as she cuts her mother off. “You will get plenty of time with your daughter. But the matter still stands that we need her and she needs to be trained.”

“Why would you need me? I’m nobody important.” Clarke says honestly. She never has been. Just another lost soul in the galaxy. No one.

Lexa meets her eyes across the table. “How much do you know about your father, Clarke?”

Clarke’s jaw tightens at the mention of her father. “How much do _you_ know about my father?” Lexa raises an eyebrow and Clarke swears Anya is laughing in her seat next to the general. 

Clearly, the general is not often spoken back to.

“Please, General.” Abby interrupts the display hurriedly. “Let me explain it to her. Please.”

Lexa analyzes the situation patiently, her chin still high as she watches Abby. Finally, Lexa gives her mother a nod and Abby sighs.

Abby turns slightly in her chair, facing Clarke more intimately. Clarke notices Kane pat Abby’s arm gently, as if in reassurance, before her mother begins to talk.

“Clarke, honey.” Her mother avoids her gaze as she starts. “Your father… he was a Jedi.”

Clarke nearly laughs. She looks away from her mother and around the room before she realizes that no one else seems to see it as a joke. 

“A Jedi?” The word sparks something in her head. A twitch, that similar feeling she always gets before something big happens. “The Jedi are real?”

Abby nods. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, Clarke.” Her mother’s voice cracks beneath the tears welling along her eyelashes. “It was such a dangerous time for the Jedi. We wanted to keep you safe.”

Clarke raises a hand, cutting her mother off. “So what does that have to do with me?”

“Your father passed down the ability to you.” Abby smiles, stroking a thumb over Clarke’s cheek. “And that ability is… a rarity now. You and Lexa may be the only Jedi left.”

Clarke’s eyes leave her mother’s face to search Lexa’s. Her expression is still the same, but Clarke has already begun to notice that Lexa speaks through her eyes, which are still observing her intently.

“Your father wanted to train you.” Abby continues, pulling Clarke’s gaze back to her. “But it was too dangerous. But now, we think it’s time.”

“Time?” Clarke’s voice is a low husk in disbelief.

“Time to begin your training.” It’s the first thing Lexa has said in a while and she stands and begins pacing as she speaks. She’s so used to this, having all eyes on her, all ears listening, all the attention and command in the room. Clarke can tell by the set of her shoulders and the confidence in her step.

“The galaxy is in desperate shape and so is the Rebellion. We have spent years looking for you, Clarke. The lost Jedi who could aid me in restoring peace to the galaxy. But while we looked for you, the Imperial Army only grew stronger.”

Slowly, as Lexa gives her speech, she moves closer to Clarke until she stands just behind her. Clarke’s eyes watch her the entire way, keeping track of the elegance of her movement yet the power behind her steps. Her neck strains upward when Lexa gets close, eyes still locking on the general’s.

She reminds Clarke of a wolf; graceful, mysterious, and more deadly than she appears.

“We need you. The galaxy needs you. You need to learn, to grow, and prepare for the fight that lies ahead. You were born for this, Clarke.” Lexa’s voice is quieter now that she’s this close to Clarke. It’s softer than Clarke’s ever heard and she feels her own heart leap. “Same as me.”

Clarke attempts to process all that’s happened in the last few hours. It’s practically too much to understand, but the one thing she knows for sure, is what her father would want her to do. She’s spent her entire life doing things that would disappoint him. Maybe it’s time for her to change direction.

Clarke glances at her mother once more before looking back up at Lexa. “I’ll do it.”

Her mother smiles on proudly as Lexa outstretches her hand towards Clarke. She takes it immediately, a shiver running up through her arm at the contact. Lexa’s hands are partially gloved, and the exposed fingers grasping her wrist are rough and calloused. Lexa is quite the hardened individual and Clarke can’t help but wonder what spending so much time with her will be like.

“We’ll start tomorrow morning.” Lexa detaches their hands, which may have lingered together a little too long. “You’re free to spend the rest of the night with your mother and a separate room has been set aside for you.” Lexa moves away from her, Gustus flanking to her side along with Anya.

“Have a good night, Clarke, Doctor Griffin.” She adds her mother’s name on, almost as an after thought, and exits the room without looking back.

\------------------------------

“I thought you were dead.” Clarke whispers to her mother later that night. Food has been brought to her mother’s room for them, so they could finally have some time alone. “I thought they killed you, for ties to the Rebellion.” Clarke sat next to her mother on her bed, only playing with the food in front of her. “How did you end up here? What happened to dad?”

Abby sighs tenderly, placing down her tray of food and gesturing for her daughter to rest her head on her shoulder. Clarke does and listens closely as her mother begins to speak. “Years ago, before the war broke out, their was a temple. It was the place all Jedi stayed when they weren’t out on missions. It’ where they lived, where they meditated, where they trained. I worked there, as a medic, and that’s how I met your father.”

“The Jedi order has strict codes and rules for each of its members to live by, the biggest being that marriage is forbidden.” Her mother hesitates and Clarke clutches her hand in hers. “But that was not the life your father wanted. He loved what the Jedi stood for and he loved helping people, but it was not the future he had in mind.”

Clarke sits up and watches her mother. “So he deserted?”

Abby nods. “About twelve or thirteen years after your father and I left, the Empire rose. They attacked the Jedi temple. They killed everyone there. Well, almost everyone.” Abby chokes up as she speaks the words, Clarke’s eyes brimming as she listens on. “Then they came looking for your father.”

Clarke feels like she can’t breathe, hearing her mom retell the pain she went through. “I can’t believe Wells did this.”

Her mother’s eyebrows furrow as she wipes away the tears on her cheeks. “Wells?”

“He told them where to find him.” She hisses. “He ratted dad out. How did you even escape?”

Abby is silent as she watches her daughter brew in anger until she finally speaks. “I hid until they were gone, but I had to disappear. They wouldn’t have stopped until they found you, so I had to separate from you to throw them off.” Her mother’s words are rushed before she changes the subject. “Where did you go after we were gone?”

“I stayed with Wells and his dad.” She smiles sadly. “I can barely look him in the eye. But I was so young. I had nowhere else to go. Until Jaha died.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “Thelonius is dead?”

“The Imperial Army came looking for him. They thought he was a Rebel.” Clarke whispers. “I thought you would have known that?”

“He wasn’t with the Rebellion, Clarke.” Abby’s eyes seem distant. “They killed him because of his connection to your father and to me, because they knew I had joined the Rebellion.”

“Hey,” Clarke reaches out, caressing her mother’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

Something shifts behind her mother’s eyes and Clarke feels that instinctual twitch once again, but she ignores it. This is her mother, who she has just gotten back. Whatever she could possibly be hiding doesn’t matter at this point.

“What happened after Thelonious died?”

“Wells and I stuck together out of necessity.” Clarke explains drearily. “We stole food to survive, came across some other people in a similar situation, stole a ship, and lived on our own.”

Clarke gives her mother the shortest summary of the last six years she can manage. She doesn’t need to know about all they did. How they continued to steal, not just for food, because they all grew to enjoy it, because they were good at it. She doesn’t have to drop that bomb on her mother, not now. 

“I missed you, mom.” She chokes out as she grabs her mother’s hand.

Her mother kisses her knuckles. “I missed you too, Clarke. More than you can imagine.”

Clarke can imagine. Her heart still aches for her father, for the best friend she used to have, for the boy she loved and left behind on the pirate freighter, and for all the other friends she’s hurt in the process of the last few years. 

Her mother doesn’t have to know how she suffered while she was gone, so Clarke keeps quiet and allows her mother to hold her as close as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every good star wars au has to have a secretly not dead parent :) Thank you for reading! I have no idea when chapter 3 will be out, but follow me on tumblr @carmillacatstein for updates!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the story really begins. This took a lot longer than planned, but all of my free time has consisted of Pokemon Go so you can thank Nintenso for that.  
> This chapter is once again not edited to perfection, so let me know if you notice any mistakes. I'm also posting this from my phone for the first time so it may not be as nice as usual. But anyways, enjoy Chapter 3!

When Clarke wakes up, her mother is already gone. She almost panics when she realizes her mother’s absence, until she notices the note left on the bedside table.

 _Off to work._ Clarke traces her finger over the familiar, elegant script of her mother. _Meet me in medical if you need me. Good luck in training._

Clarke smiles at the last few words. She can hardly explain how good it feels to have a part of her old life back. She has created her own family throughout the years, bringing her friends together in ways that have bonded them for life. But she can’t deny that having her mother back, someone who knew her before everything changed, has made her heart feel whole again.

She is going to start training today, whatever that entails, and honestly, Clarke is excited. This is a piece of her father that she will be able to carry with her forever. This is a way to make him proud, to continue the legacy he abandoned so long ago.

A knock on the door interrupts Clarke’s reminiscence. She hurries to the metal door, opening it and watching it slide to reveal Anya on the other side.

“Good morning, Clarke.” The lieutenant greets. “You’re mother is tied up in medical so I have been instructed to bring you to your first training session.”

Suddenly, Clarke’s heart beats a little faster as she remembers what her training will entail.

“Thank you, Anya.” Clarke smiles and Anya nods. “But I should probably put some decent clothes on first.”

Anya smirks as she realizes Clarke’s attire, which consists of the flimsy, robe-like pajamas she has been provided with. “Of course. I don’t think the General would expect this look.”

Clarke gulps at the mention of her new teacher. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“Take your time.” Anya chuckles as she faces away from Clarke so she can have some privacy.

\------------------------------

“Cafeteria is down this hallway to the left.” Anya points in different directions as she escorts Clarke around the base. She had decided that it would be best for Clarke to receive a tour of the confusing place before arriving at training. “Armory is down the next to the right.”

Their footsteps echo of the concrete as they walk, occasionally being greeted by other members of the Alliance.

“These are the dorms where your friends are staying.” Anya gestures to the large number of doors housing as many troopers as needed. “There’s a large common area just around the corner where soldiers spend their time.”

Clarke nods as they walk by, catching a glimpse of laughing faces and fun being had. 

“There’s a training facility for new recruits just up ahead, but that’s not where you’ll be training.” They walk by the normal facilities and continue forward for what feels like forever.

“I have to warn you, Clarke.” Anya begins as they continue to walk away from the bustling noise of the compound. “I know the General can be… intense.”

“I think intense is an understatement.” Clarke chimes in, recalling the general’s attitude yesterday.

Clarke notices the small smile on Anya’s face and the glint of something in her eyes, something that looks like affection. “I have never seen someone as skilled in the ways of the Force as Lexa. The opportunity to train with her isn’t something that should go unappreciated.”

“It’s hardly unappreciated.” Clarke replies. “But I’m not really sure what you’re trying to warn me about.”

“My point is I know Lexa seems intense, but after what she’s been through, you can’t blame her for distancing herself.” 

“And what has she been through?” Clarke pries and Anya stiffens her shoulders.

“I was a senator, before the Empire rose.” Anya began. Her voice is quiet and stiff as she contemplates what she should say. “I’ve known Lexa since she was a child. She hasn’t always been this…” Anya hesitates as she searches for the correct word.

“Cold?” Clarke finishes the sentence for her and Anya bristles.

“She isn’t cold. In fact, she’s very warm when she wants to be.” Anya sighs. “She means well. I just want you to give her a chance.”

Clarke nods as they finally come to a stop in front of a door. It’s separated from the rest of the base, no obnoxious or distracting noise making its way this far through the concrete.

Anya meets her gaze once more, until Clarke gives her a nod, and she types in a code to unlock the door in front of them.

The training facility looks nothing like the rest of the base. Instead of the harsh fluorescent light, it’s lit only by dim candle lighting. The floors are completely padded, covered in different types of fighting mats to prevent injury. There are no windows, only a few slivers in the walls to allow light in.

Lexa sits in the middle of the room, legs crossed, facing the door as Anya and Clarke enter. Her eyes are closed and she doesn’t even flinch when she hears the door slide open.

“You’re late.” Lexa states, still keeping her eyes closed.

“I thought Clarke should receive a tour of the base before her first session.” Anya explains. Her arms are folded in front of her and there’s a slight upturn to her lips.

They’re close, Anya and Lexa, despite how little Lexa shows it.

“Those were not your orders.” Lexa counters, eyes still closed, breath steady.

“No, my orders were to ensure Clarke was able to find her way to training. I thought it best she be able to find her way continuously, not just this once.” Anya unfolds her arms, lips still in a tight smile.

Lexa hesitates a long while before speaking. “Very well. You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.”

Anya rolls her eyes, something Lexa no doubt would have punished her for if her eyes had been open. Anya gives Clarke one last nod before she heads out the door, leaving Clarke completely alone with the general.

“So…” Clarke begins, tapping her foot against the ground below her. “Where do we start?” Lexa stays quiet, eyes still closed, as Clarke begins to ramble on. “Hand to hand combat? Am I going to get to use one of those cool swords you guys have?” Lexa is still as stoic as ever in the middle of the room, so Clarke continues. “Move things with my mind?”

Lexa sighs, breaking her silence for the first time since Anya left the room. “The Jedi are the most powerful individuals in the universe. We must learn how to control our power before we learn how to use it.”

“Right…” Clarke continues, confused. “So, where _do_ we start?”

“Meditation.” Lexa whispers and Clarke scoffs. “The key to control is a clear mind.”

“So you want me to, what, sit here all day?” Clarke asks and Lexa stays silent.

Clarke takes the moment to examine the room further. It’s fairly big yet bare, no additional decorations or adornments around the room. A blanket rests in the corner on top of a pillow and Clarke narrows her eyes. Why would the general of the Rebel Alliance sleep on the floor when she could have any size quarters she wants?

“It’s not just sitting.” Lexa corrects, back still straight. “It’s learning how to control oneself and their emotions. That is the key to the Jedi way.”

“I happen to like my emotions the way they are.” Clarke snaps back, moving closer to Lexa. She circles her, glancing around the room and taking everything in while she does.

“Emotions are a liability.” Lexa counters. Her voice remains ever steady. “They are a distraction that can only cause harm.”

“You must be fun at parties.” 

Lexa doesn’t flinch at Clarke’s words and her stoicism is starting to get on the blonde’s nerves. Clarke takes that as the last straw, creeping forward as silently as possible. 

Lexa doesn’t think she’s ready to fight? Well, she’ll show her she is.

She moves quickly and stealthily towards the general, a pace she’s gotten quite used to as a thief. Her footsteps are silent on the padded floor beneath them and Lexa still has her eyes closed as Clarke approaches from the side.

Clarke thinks she has her in the second that she launches forward. She pushes off the floor with all her strength, Lexa’s eyes are resting together, and her back is closer to her than her front. She won’t see her coming and that gives Clarke the advantage.

She realizes how wrong she is as soon as she comes close to making actual contact. Her plan to show Lexa what she can do quickly turns on its head when Lexa latches onto her arm, with her eyes still irritatingly closed. Lexa’s grip tightens, twisting Clarke’s arm and flipping her over the general’s shoulder abruptly.

A noise of pain escapes Clarke’s throat as Lexa overpowers her, pins the blonde down with one hand on her wrists and her hips pressed into hers.

Lexa’s eyes finally pry open to look down at Clarke. Her face is as calm as it had been before, her breath still steady in contrast to Clarke’s heavy pants of exertion. 

It’s awkward for a moment. There is no chaotic noise that filters into the training room, no room full of advisors, nothing but the two of them and the sound of Clarke’s breathing. They stay as they are for that short moment, bodies pressed together in silence, before Lexa’s eyes bore into Clarke’s.

“We’re done here.” Lexa whispers as she stands, removing herself from Clarke’s space. 

Clarke sits up abruptly at those words. “What do you mean?”

“This arrangement clearly will not work out.” Lexa explains, fiddling with some of the candles around the room, her back to Clarke.

“So you’re giving up on me? Just like that?” The realization stings and Clarke isn’t exactly sure why.

“This is not something that can be forced, Clarke. You’re simply not ready.” Lexa still hasn’t met her eyes and Clarke wants to scream.

Clarke feels slightly offended. Scratch that, she’s extremely offended. Lexa doesn’t know her. She has no idea what Clarke is like, what Clarke can do, and what Clarke has been through.

“Not ready?” Clarke questions. “Why do you get to decide that?”

“Because I was once in your shoes.” Lexa responds and Clarke’s eyes narrow. “While the power that comes from being a Jedi can be rewarding, it can also be perilous. Not everyone is built for this way of life, Clarke.”

“Oh, but you are?” Clarke’s voice escalates. She hates being talked down to, like she’s only a kid. She hasn’t been a kid since her parents disappeared from her life. “What makes you so special? What makes us so different?”

Lexa finally turns to face Clarke. She is attempting to keep her outward appearance of unaffectedness, but she’s failing slightly. Her jaw clenches and her lips purse as she grows frustrated with Clarke.

“You’re impatient.” Lexa begins her list, each word digging into Clarke sharply. “You’re angry. You’ve loved and lost and you allowed it to affect how you function. You cannot handle the ability you’ve been gifted with.”

The last sentence reaches especially deep. Clarke’s walls build up as tears sting the back of her eyes and she bites back at Lexa.

“And you’re not?” Clarke moves into Lexa’s space, backing the general up until she bumps into the table behind her. “Like you’re some kind of droid? I may be emotional but you’re a liar.”

“You can act as detached and holier-than-thou as you want, Lexa, but you don’t fool me.” Their faces were at the same level as Lexa pressed into the table, attempting to gain some sort of distance between the two of them. The air between them is taught with tension and Clarke steps into it unwaveringly. “You want everyone to think you’re above it all, but I see right through you.”

Lexa swallows uncomfortably as her jaw physically clenches tighter. Her gaze burns into Clarke’s before she finally speaks in a harsh whisper.

“Get out.”

Clarke lingers for a minute longer, gaze scanning Lexa’s face to measure how serious she is. When Clarke observes the fiery gaze, clenched fists, shaking knees, and tight shoulders, she realizes Lexa is definitely not joking.

She backs out of Lexa’s space, giving her a few seconds to think if this is what she really wants to do. Lexa’s eyes move downward, losing contact with Clarke’s.  
Clarke scoffs at the display. “I heard so many stories about you. About the brave and powerful General of the Rebellion.” Lexa looks back up at Clarke’s words, eyes softer than Clarke has seen them before. “None of them ever told me how much of a coward she is.”

With that, Clarke storms out of the room, Lexa watching her go as the door slides shut.

\------------------------------

Clarke wanders around for hours trying to find her way around the base. She doesn’t truly know where she’s trying to find her way to in her agitated state, but unsurprisingly she ends up outside of her mother’s bedroom.

Clarke’s knock echoes off the metallic door throughout the hallway. She isn’t even sure if her mother is home. If she isn’t, she could hole up in the room she has been provided with, but Clarke doesn’t want to be alone right now.

She hasn’t been alone for the last six years. Starting now doesn’t exactly feel like the right time.

She waits for her mother to answer the door. It’s not a long wait. Her mother is probably expecting her and when the door slides open, Clarke immediately falls into Abby’s arms.

“I take it that today didn’t go well.” Her mother’s voice is soothing as Clarke buries her face into her mother’s chest.

“No, it didn’t.” Her voice feels hollow as it leaves her lips and her mother draws away to lead Clarke inside.

“I know the General isn’t the easiest person to be around.” Abby begins in an attempt to comfort her daughter. “But she is incredible, Clarke. Whatever happened, it can be fixed.”

“She told me she isn’t going to train me.” Clarke rushes out, cutting her mother’s attempts off. “I called her a liar and a coward, and she told me to get out.”

Abby stares at her daughter in stunned silence. “Well that makes things more complicated.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I blew it.”

“What do you mean?” Her mother asks, wrapping an arm around Clarke’s shoulder.

“I ruined my only chance to be close to dad.” Clarke shakes her head. “I screwed it all up.”

“Clarke.” The arm around her shoulder moves and clasps her hands. “Your father was so proud of you and he would still be if he were alive now.”

The tears start to spill as Clarke listens to her mother’s soft voice. “For what? Failing?”

“You haven’t failed, Clarke.” Abby places a gentle hand under her chin to raise her daughter’s eyes to hers. “This is just an obstacle on the path that you’re walking on. It’s a bump in the road that you just have to find a way around.”

Abby stands from the bed they are resting on. She crouches down and pulls a wooden chest from beneath the bed.

“What’s that?” Clarke asks, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

Her mother smiles and places the box in Clarke’s lap, instructing her to open it. Clarke does slowly, unsure of what she might find. When she sees the contents, a gasp of air tumbles from her lips in shock.

She reaches in, fingers lacing around the cold, metalic hilt delicately. Her hand is unsteady as she lifts the weapon from the box with an unsure and shaky grip.

“Is this...” Clarke trails off as her mother smiles on in pride.

“Your father’s lightsaber.” Abby finishes the sentence for her. “He wanted you to have it one day. I think now is the perfect time.” Abby watches her daughter look at the weapon with awe. “I’ve known the General for quite some time. She’s always willing to compromise for the greater good.”

“So what do I do?” Clarke questions further, feeling like the twelve year old she was before she lost everything.

“I think you already know.” Abby smiles lightly and Clarke nods.

She does.

\------------------------------

Clarke doesn’t know where to find Lexa the next day. She doesn’t know the general’s schedule. She doesn’t know where she sleeps, where she rises in the morning, what she does as soon as she is up. The only lead Clarke has is that she might still be in her training area. There wasn’t a blanket there for no reason. It must mean something.

She tries there first and it takes her a while to find the room once again. She hesitates outside the door for a while, not really sure what to do. She knows the code for the door, Anya had given it to her before they arrived, but she thinks it may be rude for her to just barge in after what she said yesterday. Is it awkward for her to knock? She’s not quite sure.

Before Clarke can dwell on the subject any longer, she hears Lexa speak up from inside the room. 

“Please, Clarke, open the door. Your pacing is driving me insane.” Clarke hadn’t even realized she had been pacing until she freezes in her tracks at the words.

 _How does she always do that?_ Clarke rolls her eyes as she punches in the keycode and the door opens for her.

As soon as the door closes, they are engulfed in an uncomfortable silence. Lexa stretches in the center of the room, back to Clarke as her limbs push themselves to the limit.

Clarke keeps her gaze high, chin raised, and face stern as she speaks. “I’m sorry.” Lexa’s neck spins as Clarke’s words echo in the room. “About yesterday. I was out of line.”

Lexa’s eyes scan her over and Clarke feels as though she’s under a looking glass. “Yes, you were.”

Clarke clenches her jaw. She’s not here to fight. “I’m willing to learn at whatever pace you see fit.”

Lexa stands up straight, across from Clarke, facing her down. She hesitates and Clarke begins to prepare for rejection as she waits.

But instead, Lexa nods. She steps aside, gesturing further into the room.

“Then let’s begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, follow me on Tumblr @carmillacatstein for any suggestions, complaints, fangirlish screams, etc.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! A new update! This is a big one for our leading lady as you can imagine there's some stuff she finds out. Also, it's kind of shocking to me how many people think Jake is alive and a member of the Dark Side. I like Jake way too much to make him the villain. But that will be revealed soon. Anyways, please enjoy!

Meditating is much more relaxing than Clarke imagined, which is something she begrudgingly accepts. The quiet is peaceful compared to the craziness she has become so accustomed to and she finds herself enjoying the moment to sit and breathe.

She hardly wants to admit this though, seeing that admitting it would be admitting that Lexa has been right the whole time. Unfortunately for Clarke, that seems to _always_ be the case. Lexa is always annoyingly correct and Clarke is strangely in awe of the general.

Clarke opens her eyes just slightly to glance at the woman in her thoughts. Lexa sits across from her, legs crossed gently in her lap, and her back straight. Her head is back, brown hair cascading over her shoulders and haloing her sharp, yet relaxed features. She isn’t wearing the dark armor she usually dons when in a meeting or giving orders. She’s wearing a light top that opens at the shoulders and falls gently across her torso. Clarke isn’t blind. She has noticed how attractive her new master is over the last week of their sessions, which makes focusing much more difficult.

Clarke thinks she catches a glimpse of black ink across light skin when her attention is drawn by Lexa’s voice.

“You’re not focusing, Clarke.” Clarke thinks she imagines the slight smirk on Lexa’s lips and blushes.

“Sorry.” She clears her throat and closes her eyes once again.

“I think this has been enough for today.” Lexa counters and rises to her feet. Clarke follows her shortly after and Lexa nods in her direction. “You’re doing significantly better, Clarke. If you continue like this, I believe we will be able to further your training soon.”

“Well, I have a good teacher.” Clarke teases, her eyes meeting Lexa’s.

Lexa’s face reddens and the free energy surrounding her tenses. Her smirk falls as she tenses. “That will be all today, Clarke. Report here tomorrow morning.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. It’s unbelievable how quickly Lexa’s whole demeanor manages to shift. Clarke has become curiouser and curiouser about her and why she seems so distant even from her “padawan”, as Lexa had referred to her. 

She is determined to find out what makes Lexa tick, Clarke thinks, as she exits the room with a confident sway of her hips.

\------------------------------

Clarke has spent more time in her own room over the last week. She hated it at first, being alone and not having anyone to talk to, especially now that she has her mother back. But now, she kind of enjoys it. She likes not having the pressure to take care of her friends for the first time in forever.

On the walk back to her room, she expects to be greeted with peace and quiet. Instead, she finds Wells waiting outside her door, sitting on the floor and fidgeting with his hands.

She stops in her tracks when she notices her old friend and he notices the movement. Wells fumbles to stand, his prosthetic leg making it difficult.

Clarke stays in her spot, glaring at him. He gulps and meets her where she stands.

“Hi, Clarke.” He breathes hesitantly.

She stays silent, eyes boring into his chest. “What do you want?”

“Just… to talk.” He explains and Clarke raises an eyebrow. “We haven’t really gotten the chance since we got here.”

“Yeah, that’s because I don’t want to talk to you, Wells.” Clarke counters with a hiss.

His eyes fall at her angry words. “I just thought that maybe…”

“You thought...what?” Clarke interrupts him, her voice growing louder. “You thought that just because my mother is alive that I was going to forgive you?”

“No, not at all.” Wells tries to explain himself, but falls flat.

“Then what did you think?” Clarke huffs, shoulders sagging in exhaustion at the anger she feels.

Wells watches her sadly before sighing. “Nothing.”

Clarke shakes her head and pushes him away slightly. “Go float yourself, Wells.”

His eyes are downcast as she shoulders by him and he feels his heart clench.

\------------------------------

Clarke is agitated the next morning and Lexa can tell.

Agitated is probably an understatement, though. Clarke is pissed off, disappointed, and overall stressed out. Wells aggravated her beyond belief the night before and she’s still feeling the emotions reeling in her brain.

They stretch before they do anything, even if there is no physicality in the training. It helps the body loosen, in Lexa’s words, and it aids in the relaxation of the mind.

Clarke’s beginning to think it’s all bullshit again because she’s tense and the stretching is not fixing it.

But of course Lexa knows. She always knows.

“Clarke.” Clarke’s back is to Lexa, but the tone in her voice lets Clarke know she’s serious. “You’re unfocused.”

“You’re observant.” Clarke retaliates, back still facing the other woman.

She hears Lexa approach slowly, her footsteps making the softest of noises against the padded floor. “Mockery is not the product of a strong mind, Clarke.”

“Never said I had a strong mind.” Clarke finally turns to her, accepting the fact that Lexa would not let her go on like this.

“And I thought you understood to continue with this training, you would have to have one.” Lexa’s eyes never waver as they watch Clarke, who stares back just as confidently.

“Why does it matter so much to you?” Clarke asks, curious. “What’s so important about a clear mind?”

“The power we have… it has to be used in the right way.” There’s something in Lexa’s voice that makes Clarke listen attentively. She sounds more earnest than ever, as if she is drawing her lessons directly from experience. “We have to limit ourselves in order to keep others safe from what we are capable of.”

“This is all sounding pretty vague.” Clarke counters. She’s hardly stupid. She knows Lexa is holding back. “And unspecific.”

“Maybe if you told me what was going on I could be more specific.” Lexa replies instantly and Clarke reels as the conversation now turns its focus to her.

She thinks maybe this is Lexa’s way of trying to form some kind of relationship. Clarke can tell she isn’t going to crack unless she does.

Maybe she can take the first step.

“An old friend of mine… betrayed me a long time ago.” Clarke begins and Lexa listens on curiously. “He ruined my life.”

“And you hate him for it.” Lexa finishes for her.

Clarke doesn’t nod. She doesn’t say anything. “I can’t forgive him.”

“You must.” The two words are Lexa’s only response and Clarke scoffs.

“You have no idea what he did.” Clarke laughs. “You have no idea what he put me through.”

“But I do know that holding a grudge can be the downfall of even the best Jedi.” Lexa takes a step closer to Clarke “You can be a leader that your people look to. Pour their hopes and dreams into.” Lexa hesitates before finishing. “Someone they would fight and die for.”

“I didn’t ask for that.” Clarke pants. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“You were born for this, Clarke.” Lexa approaches slowly, her shoulder only centimeters away from Clarke’s. Her voice is tender and Clarke shudders as her eyes lock with hers. “Same as me.”

“People like us… we don’t get a choice, do we?” Clarke sighs, tears prickling at her lashes.

Lexa simply shakes her head. She stays quiet for quite some time, simply standing by Clarke’s side. It’s almost comforting and Clarke shifts an inch so their shoulders just barely touch. Clarke thinks she hears Lexa’s breath hitch at the contact, but she must have imagined it. Lexa pulls away and walks across the room with her back towards Clarke once again.

“No, we don’t.” Lexa’s tone is laced with regret and Clarke itches to know why.

“Well, you’re the master.” Clarke laughs. “What should I do?”

“Move on.” Lexa instructs, her back still to Clarke. “It is the only thing we can do.”

Clarke notices the ‘we’ immediately, but lets it slide. “Easier said than done.”

“We do what we must.” Lexa’s shoulders stiffen. “This is what must be done if you wish to continue your training.”

Clarke scoffs. “Glad to know I have your support.”

Clarke leaves the room with heavy footsteps and Lexa never turns around to watch her leave.

\------------------------------

Clarke has taken to eating with her friends over the last week. She retreats from the training room and Lexa to join the group closer to their dorms, sitting with them in their designated cafeteria. No way in hell is she letting Wells change that.

She plops herself next to Bellamy, no tray full of food like the others, having no appetite. Silence flows over the table almost immediately, and the tension in the air grows sharper.  
Octavia and Monty are the only people, other than Bellamy, to make eye contact with her. Wells tries to, but Clarke simply refuses to acknowledge him. Raven and Jasper sit at the farther end of the table, closer to Wells’ side than hers.

“So, how’s training, Clarke?” Monty breaks the silence with his gentle smile. “Move anything without touching it yet?”

She’s thankful for his attempts at popping the bubble of awkwardness surrounding the table and smiles at him slightly. “Hardly.”

“So what do you do?” Bellamy attempts to continue the conversation.

“Sit around, stretch, meditate…” Clarke lists until she is interrupted.

“Does the General ever teach you how not to get your friends killed?” The words belong to Raven and Clarke’s fists clench.

“At least I know how not to betray them.” Clarke counters, eyes finally boring into Wells’.

“Clarke?” The voice of her mother cuts into the conversation and Clarke stands.

“Mom?” Clarke furrows her eyebrows, confusion riddling her features. “What are you doing here?”

“Slow day in medical. The General said you might be here.” Abby explains, eyes raking over the table with curiosity. “Something wrong?”

Clarke pears over her shoulder. She takes in Wells’ pleading eyes and feels her stomach roll in anger. “Nothing at all.”

She storms from the table, her mother hesitating by the table. Abby turns to Wells, whose head is bowed, avoiding all eye contact.

The group stays silent as Abby lingers, taking in the tension between Clarke and her friends. She follows her daughter out of the room hesitantly, taking deep breaths with each step they take.

\------------------------------

The air in Abby’s room is colder than usual. A chill runs up Clarke’s spine as soon as she steps through the door. It shocks her that she can’t see the cloud of her deep breaths in the concrete room. Normally her mother’s presence has always been able to bring a certain warmth to these situations, but Abby’s presence makes the air in the room grow tighter.

“Clarke.” Even Abby’s voice is chilled as she approaches her daughter.

Clarke’s fists are clenched at her side as she takes deep breaths in attempt to calm her racing mind.

“Clarke!” Abby calls out to grab Clarke’s attention.

“Goddamn Wells.” Clarke whispers, fists clenching once again. “I can’t even look at him anymore.”

The silence rings loudly after Clarke’s words. It bears down on both mother and daughter, who stand feet apart.

“It wasn’t Wells.”

Clarke freezes at that, before turning to face her mother. Her mother’s eyes are downcast and Clarke lets a bitter laugh fall from her lips.

“What do you mean it wasn’t Wells?” Clarke’s fists uncoil and tremble.

“Wells didn’t turn your father in.” Abby’s shoulders carry the tension in her body and stiffen.

Clarke’s shock leaves her lips in a hollow whisper. “Then who did?” Abby doesn’t speak and Clarke moves closer to her mother, putting her face right in her space.

“Who did?”

Clarke feels like she is beginning to know the answer. Her mother’s silence answers the question. Abby continues to look down and avoids Clarke’s gaze.

Her mother’s persistent silence itches at the back of Clarke’s mind and she breaks.

“It was you.” Clarke’s voice is scarily calm and that prompts Abby to look up. Clarke takes advantage and shoves her mother backwards and out of her space. “It was you!”

“Clarke…” Her mother pleads and Clarke shakes her head.

“Why?” Tears spill over Clarke’s lashes as she stares her mother down. “What in the universe were thinking?!”

Abby’s eyes well up as she explains herself. “I was protecting you, Clarke!”

“Oh, please.” Clarke moves away from her mother, who insistently tries to push forwards.

“They would have come for you.” Abby pleads. “I was trying to save you.”

“Yeah, you did a great job at that.” Clarke snarks and Abby freezes.

“If the Empire had come when we weren’t expecting it, they would have gotten you and Jake.” Abby explains and Clarke turns her back to her mother. “But if I knew when they were coming, I could hide you.”

“So you killed my father, your husband, left me with Jaha, and made me think you were dead?” Clarke’s voice is raised as she searches for something, anything, to keep her hands occupied. “You did all that to protect me?”

“I know it sounds crazy, Clarke-” Abby begins but Clarke cuts her off instantly.

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s insane.” Clarke sobs. “ _You_ ruined my life. _You_ let me hate my best friend. _You_ let me think I was alone.”

“You’re not alone, Clarke.” Abby pleads, her hands grazing Clarke’s back.

Clarke pulls away aggressively and scoffs. “No, I am. But so are you.”

Clarke slams the button on the door and storms out, leaving her mother alone.

\------------------------------

Clarke knocks on Wells’ door hesitantly. She has been horrible to her friend for all these years and he hadn’t even done anything wrong. She couldn’t forgive him for simply not wanting her to hurt even though she’s now the one who probably shouldn’t be forgiven.

“Wells.” She calls gently as she knocks, voice still vulnerable from tears.

She hears his footsteps move quickly as he opens the door almost immediately. He doesn’t say anything, most likely from the shock that Clarke is speaking to him.

“I know I probably don’t deserve it, but I need to know the truth.” She nods and purses her lips, fighting back tears. “It was my mom, wasn’t it? She’s the one who turned in my dad”

Wells’ mouth opens in shock and his eyes move quickly around the room, unsure of how to respond.

“I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t.” Clarke explains, her voice taking on a pleading tone without her even meaning it. “I blamed you… because my father’s dead and it’s my mother’s fault.” Clarke hesitates before appealing directly to Wells. “Isn’t it?”

Wells is quiet and hesitant again, still unsure of how much he should say.

“Wells.” Clarke begs. “Please.”

He hesitates before finally meeting her eyes. “I knew how you would feel.” His voice is whispered and Clarke gasps. “I wanted to-”

“To protect me.” Clarke finishes and laughs through tears. “Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot recently.” Wells nods and Clarke forces a sad smile. “So you let me hate you?

“What are friends for.” Wells smiles back, eyes honest and warm.

“How can you forgive me?” Clarke nearly sobs.

Wells almost laughs in disbelief before he stops himself. “That’s already done.”

Wells reaches out his arm to draw Clarke in and her face falls into his chest. She tightens her grip on her best friend as he places his cheek on the top of her head. Clarke’s heart hurts, but she can appreciate how nice it feels to hug her best friend once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr @carmillacatstein


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up out of nowhere after 2 months* *leaves this here*

To say the night had been a sleepless one is an understatement. Clarke spent the night in her own room, after she convinced Wells that she really needed to just be alone. She tossed and turned in her bed all night, frustrated and angry beyond anything she has ever felt before.

So when Echo shows up outside of her door to inform her that Lexa is holding a war council meeting she has been asked to attend, Clarke feels the anger in her stomach flair. Her mother will no doubt be in attendance, but unfortunately, Clarke doesn’t really have a choice in the matter. Echo steps out to give her a moment, while Clarke prepares herself for the inevitable disaster.

Echo is quiet as she escorts Clarke to the meeting, which isn’t necessarily helping the awkwardness hanging in the air. The rebel continuously glances at Clarke as they proceed, making Clarke feel more as if she’s under a magnifying glass than she really is.

The room is as silent as Clarke expected it to be when she finally arrived. The sight before her is exactly what she expected. Lexa, whose attention is now on her, is standing with Gustus and Anya by her sides, while her other advisors are already seated. Indra and Kane sit next to each other, Echo takes up position, stood in attention at the back of the room. The silence is broken by a screech of metal against the floor, as Abby abruptly rises to her feet when Clarke enters the room.

Clarke stares at her mother for what feels like ages. Fire is no doubt burning in her gaze as her mother watches her with a desperate plea.

Lexa has no doubt noticed the obvious tension and speaks. “Please, everyone, take a seat.”

Her mother sighs before sitting, unable to disobey an order from the general. Lexa stands by a chair as she waits for everyone to take their seats first. Clarke seats herself next to Anya, as far away from her mother as she can get and Lexa’s eyebrows furrow at the display.

The general takes her own seat eventually. “Let’s begin, shall we?”

“Sergeant Ward,” Indra nods at Lexa’s acknowledgment. “Give us an update on the new base stationed on Hoth.”

“Yes, General.” Indra states before beginning a long winded update about the status of the newest Rebellion hide out.

Clarke should be paying attention, she knows that, but it’s extremely hard to focus when her mother is sitting barely seven feet away from her. She tries to listen and fails to process anything that is being said as her mother keeps glancing at her with regretful eyes.

“And the base has been fully stocked with medical supplies, I presume, Doctor Griffin.” Lexa shifts the focus to Clarke’s mother and her jaw clenches.

“I wouldn’t put so much faith in her.” Clarke mumbles, drawing more attention to herself than originally planned.

“What was that, Clarke?” Lexa asks, brows still together in confusion.

“Nothing.” Clarke counters and gulps, eyes landing back on her mother.

Abby sighs and begins to respond to the general’s prompt. “Yes, General. I sent Jackson to the planet two days ago with more than enough supplies for the base.”

As her mother continues her explanation, Clarke feels the anger within her blossom at the sound of her mother’s voice. The burning in her stomach grows from a simmer to what must be considered an inferno. A strong tingling sensation travels up her body and settles by the base of her neck, raging as she clenches her fists in aggravation.

The sound of Lexa clearing her throat manages to catch her attention just enough for her eyes to leave her mother and focus on the general’s, whose eyes are widened almost comically. Her mother stops abruptly at the sound and all heads turn to Lexa.

“That will be all for today, everyone. Thank you for coming.” Clarke shifts as everyone begins to rise, but Lexa’s voice once again stops her. “Clarke, if you would stay where you are.”

Clarke sighs. She doesn’t know how Lexa knows she’s strung out, but she definitely isn’t ready for the lecture she is no doubt about to receive.

Once the room empties out, Lexa rises from her seat and stands by Clarke’s side.

“Your chair.” The first two words Lexa speaks to Clarke make absolutely no sense to her. 

Clarke looks down at herself in confusion. “My chair? What about it?”

Clarke hears an exhale leave Lexa’s nose as she reaches both of her arms out. They brush Clarke’s shoulders quickly but she doesn’t have time to process it because Lexa is pushing and her chair is moving downwards.

She glances down as she sinks at least six inches lower than she had been before and she gasps. “Did I do that?” Lexa nods and Clarke stares at the ground as the chair plants itself back in its rightful place. “How did I do that?”

“You let your emotions get the best of you.” Lexa explains as she lowers her hands from the place on Clarke’s chair.

“I… I didn’t mean to.” Clarke mutters in disbelief at what she had just done. “I didn’t even know I could do that.”

“We almost never mean to.” Lexa’s voice is soft as she takes a seat in the chair next to Clarke. “Our abilities can surprise us in the most terrifying ways. That is why we can’t let ourselves be controlled by our feelings.”

“You don’t know what she did.” Clarke whispers. “I can’t forgive her.”

“Your mother made a decision a long time ago that she thought would keep you safe.” Clarke stares at Lexa in awe. She knows more about the situation than Clarke initially thought and she can’t say she’s shocked. “You’re mother sacrificed her own happiness for your safety and you may disagree with her decision, but you should at least be able to respect it.”

Clarke scoffs. “You call getting my father killed a decision? Picking what you want for lunch is a decision. Turning in your husband to the Empire is murder.”

“Our family are the closest people to our hearts and can easily become our undoing.” Lexa begins. “Don’t let this be yours.”

Clarke watches Lexa’s eyes waver while she speaks. There’s a vulnerability within them she hasn’t seen before.

“I’ll see you in training.” It’s the only response Clarke can think of as she stands and storms out of the room, feeling no better than she had before.

\------------------------------

Clarke finds herself wandering around the base with absolutely no destination or plans in mind. She has nowhere to go. Her mother will most likely be waiting for her at her own room. She has no desire to be questioned and surrounded by as many rebel officials possible, and she most definitely does not want to be confronted by Lexa for simply feeling a basic human emotion.

She loses track of time as she walks, mind wandering around anything and everything relating to her mother. She thinks about Wells and how she has wasted so much time hating him, when he had done nothing but try and protect her. Her stomach floods with guilt and shakes with the sudden onslaught.

Somehow, perhaps unconsciously, she finds herself approaching the exact person that’s been on her mind.

She finds Wells in one of the many cafeterias on the base. She hadn’t realized that she was looking for him, until she found herself rushing through the doors and stumbling into her best friend.

“Clarke…” His voice is concerned as his hands find her shoulders. “Are you alright?”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that. Of course she’s not and of course Wells knows that. But he’s as understanding as ever and refuses to push her into talking about anything she doesn’t want to. She does want to talk about this with him. He’s the only person she can. And yet she has no idea how to put what she’s feeling into words.

Before she is forced to speak, Wells does for her. “Why don’t we take this somewhere else?” He whispers just before he checks over his shoulder. He’s worried about something, something other than her, and she searches the room for whatever it could be.

She sees her almost instantly, stumbling across the room angrily and quite possibly drunk. Raven’s brown eyes are burning into her and Clarke feels her throat tighten at the realization that she will in fact have to deal with this now.

Raven stops directly in front of her, shoulders squared up. “Get out of my way, Clarke.”

Clarke doesn’t acknowledge that Raven could have easily kept going and that there was plenty of room that she could have used. She hardly wants to instigate a tipsy and very angry Raven even further.

“Do you think I meant for any of this to happen?” Clarke pleads. She is more fragile than she would care to admit today and her vulnerability pours through with each word. “Do you really think I _wanted_ any of this to happen? That I wanted to hurt you? That I wanted to wind up imprisoned and enslaved? That I wanted Finn to-”

Clarke knows the second she uttered his name that she has crossed the line. Raven’s eyes change almost immediately and she feels the blow to her cheek before she can even finish her sentence.

Her body tenses as she prepares to respond with an equally violent movement. Her fists clench as her mind stops and she feels the same tingling sensation she had in the meeting that morning. She freezes and clenches her fists even tighter. Her mind kicks back into gear, imaging what could happen if she just released the pent up frustration brewing behind her fists. The idea of letting loose flirts easily into her brain as she pictures how easily she could win this fight if she unleashes this new-found ability she possesses.

She quickly shakes her head as she realizes what she had actually been thinking about doing and comes back to the present situation. Bellamy and Octavia had made their way over at some point during the quarrel, the latter at Raven’s side as her older brother steps in between the fight.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy demands as if he had no clue what it was about. 

Clarke meets his eyes before she meets Octavia’s, who looks utterly in defense mode. Octavia is her friend, but if it comes down to Clarke or Raven, she will be by the mechanic’s side in a second.

She chances a look at Raven, who looks utterly furious, one more time. Clarke sighs and shakes herself out of the grip Wells has on her arm.

“Nothing.” The word scrapes its way from her lips. “Nothing at all.” She storms from the room as harshly as ever, only hesitating for just a moment when she hears Wells call her name.

\------------------------------

Out of the flurry of fists Clarke sends Lexa’s way, not one of them hits their mark.

It’s her first day of physical training and Clarke was grateful for it at first. It will be a safe way for her to get her aggression out, or at least that’s what she told herself.

In all honesty, it makes her even more frustrated when they’ve been at this for half an hour and she hasn’t managed to land one hit on Lexa.

After blocking one of Clarke’s sneakier attacks and twisting the blonde’s arm to send her flailing to the side, Lexa spoke. “What are you doing wrong, Clarke?”

Lexa always tries to make her think about herself, about what she can do to change something, and Clarke’s tired of trying to figure herself out. She responds to Lexa’s suggestion with even quicker strikes, that once again meet block after block.

Clarke swings her leg out, growing tired of Lexa’s constant defense. She aims high, closer to Lexa’s shoulders than she wanted, and Lexa ducks below her in response. She dodges the attack easily and steps out of Clarke’s reach.

“You’re being too aggressive, Clarke.” Clarke doesn’t hesitate to begin another onslaught, as Lexa continues to block and dodge each move. “Slow yourself. Think about your next move before doing it.”

Clarke simply grunts in response as she ignores the advice. Lexa dances around her, feet barely making noise as they float across the floor. Clarke has started to grow tired of this back and forth, mustering up the strength for another blow. She attempts to kick out at Lexa again, this time jumping slightly and forcing her leg downward towards the General’s head.

Lexa anticipates the move all too easily and stops the kick with a grip to Clarke’s ankle. Lexa twists Clarke’s leg and before Clarke has a chance to land, outstretches her arm. The simple movement of Lexa’s arm sends out a harsh force, sending Clarke spiralling backwards into the wall without Lexa even having to touch her. She smacks against the wall with a harsh thud before dropping to the ground on her stomach, gasping for the breath that has been knocked completely from her lungs.

She lies there with her eyes closed, attempting to catch her breath, without bothering to try and stand. She leans her forehead on the inside of her elbow, panting as she hears a shift that signals Lexa has moved closer to her.

“You’re too aggressive.” Lexa repeats her observation from earlier, breath barely labored as she rests on the ground beside Clarke. “What’s wrong?”

Clarke manages to pull herself into a sitting position, back resting against the wall behind her. Lexa is sat across from her, legs crossed and face attentive. Her composure is barely fazed, her clothing still in place and hair still intricately braided. 

Clarke’s breath hitches and she convinces herself she simply hasn’t caught her breath yet.

She glances away from concerned green eyes in an attempt to make it easier to speak. “I almost hurt Raven earlier.”

Lexa’s head tilts. “You used the Force again?”

“No, not really.” Clarke explains, leaning forward from the wall. “I didn’t actually do anything, but…”

“You thought about doing something.” Lexa finishes for her and Clarke nods. “Sometimes that’s worse. Our actions can seem distant from us, like they were beyond our control. But our thoughts, those are our own. There is no running from our own thoughts.” Clarke stays silent, closer to Lexa than she was before. Lexa’s eyes find hers as she continues. “What happened that made you think about it?”

Clarke sighs as she reflects on the events from earlier that day. “I’m afraid that’s down a whole other dark path in my life.”

Lexa didn’t seem phased, her eyes holding Clarke’s as she responds. “That’s exactly why you need to tell me.”

Clarke recalls every time Lexa has urged her to forget her past, that emotion is a weakness she can’t afford. She has been right, the whole time. Clarke let herself into that state, feeling betrayed and abandoned by her mother. When an opportunity arose, she almost took it, all because of exactly what Lexa has been warning her against.

“It’s certainly a long story to explain.” Clarke jokes slightly. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

“We have time.” Lexa counters, green eyes still locked on Clarke.

It’s becoming much harder for Clarke to pretend the hitch in her breath isn’t due to piercing green eyes and the slight swallow of Lexa’s throat.

Clarke isn’t quite sure where to begin. Lexa is essentially asking her to explain her entire life story to her, to bare the very core of what has shaped who she is. That’s not a simple task for anyone to encounter and she racks her brain to find a starting point.

“I’m sure my mother has told you all you need to know about the first half of this story.” Clarke chuckles bitterly, gritting her teeth at the thought of her mother.

“I know only that your mother made a decision she thought was right.” Lexa’s voice shifts to the same vulnerable tone recognized earlier, a soft murmur she doesn’t use often. “And I know that even if you do not agree with it, you should at least be able to see why she made it.”

“The part that hurts the most is that I do.” Clarke nods, her lips pressing together into a thin line as she pushes back emotion. “If I really think about it, I do. My mother would do anything for me. We’re the same in that way, almost. We do anything to protect the people we care about.” She pauses in her moment of reflection, a slight simmer of rage reemerging. “That doesn’t change the fact that she betrayed my father, abandoned me, and left me to hate the only person who has had my back through everything.”

Lexa doesn’t say a word for quite a while. Clarke is unsure what to do, if she should continue, and if she does, what to say. Lexa simply watches Clarke fidget in the silence before she speaks. “What about after that? Raven? What happened with her?”

Those wounds, more recent than most, still sting when Clarke is faced with the memories. Her jaw tightens and she glances away from Lexa, unsure if she can begin without dredging up feelings she fears recalling.

“Please tell me, Clarke. For your own sake.” Lexa sounds so genuine, so reassuring, that Clarke begins with barely a second’s more hesitation. 

“I stayed with Wells and his father after my parents… half died?” Clarke isn’t sure how to put what happened into words but Lexa seems to understand by the slight nod of her chin, so she continues. “Until his father died and we were both left with nowhere to go. I was fifteen, almost sixteen, with no home, no food, and no family. So I made my own.”

“The crew you came in with.” Lexa finishes her thoughts for her, making the painful reimagining slightly easier for Clarke to fill in.

Clarke nods before continuing. “We met Bellamy and Octavia first. They lived on Tatooine with Wells and I, not too far off. We stole from them.” A slight smile actually creeps onto her face at the memory. “Their mother had died not too long ago and they sold food and crops in Tosche station. Wells and I tried to steal some stuff, Bellamy caught on very quickly, and chased us down. I think he felt bad for us, seeing what little stuff we had, and was going to let us keep whatever we needed.”

“Octavia was fascinated though. She didn’t have a lot of friends because Bellamy became so protective once their mother died. Wells and I were planning on leaving the planet. We were essentially wanted criminals at that point because we’d been stealing to keep ourselves alive and she wanted to come with us. Bellamy was not happy about that at all. She convinced him though. He’d do anything for her, so they tagged along and we got as far away from Tatooine as we could with a junk ship that we managed to steal together.”

“That’s how we met Jasper and Monty. A month or two into it, our ship started malfunctioning and, well, I may know how to fly it but I don’t know enough to fix it. We were scrambling to get out of the Outer Rim and Monty knew more about engineering than I do. Him and Jasper were in a similar situation to ours, two best friends with very little to do and very few places to be. So they helped us steal some parts to fix the ship and joined the crew.”

Clarke freezes as the happier memories of her friends begin to fade and she remembers why she’s going down this path at all. Lexa has remained respectfully quiet throughout her retelling, eyes concentrated only on Clarke’s face.

“And then you met Raven?” Her tone is almost confused, laced with a concern for Clarke and what she will have to say next.

Clarke’s eyes stray to the side. “Then I met Raven… ” She nods her head slowly, confirming Lexa’s question before further elaborating. “And Raven’s boyfriend, Finn.”

Lexa’s eyes widen very slightly at the words, not recognizing the name. She tilts her chin from its usual upright position for a single second, a way to urge Clarke on.

“Raven is the real brains of the operation. She’s clever, witty, and one hell of a mechanic.” Clarke pauses, a sliver of pride shining through her face as she discusses the friend who is still so dear to her despite all that has happened. “She’s as tough as stone… but then again, chip away at it long enough and even stone breaks.”

“Finn and I were… close. Too close, actually. Nothing ever happened between the two of us. I wouldn’t let it. I never wanted to do anything that would hurt Raven but…” Clarke hadn’t noticed the tears in her eyes until one managed to spill over her eyelid. She froze at the realization, head tilting downward and her jaw tightening.

“But our intentions don’t always matter.” Lexa suggests and Clarke nods.

“Everything was fine, for a while.” Clarke continues, wiping the tears from her cheeks quickly. “I ignored what I felt for Finn as much as possible, despite him not wanting to give up so easily. We went on for years. We were fine. Everyone was fine.” She bit her lip tightly. “Until we were captured by the pirates Anya found us with.”

Clarke gulps as emotion pushes up her throat and she begins to ramble. “It was my fault. It was my fault we were captured because I was supposed to be on guard and paying attention. It was my fault for allowing Finn to continue to develop feelings. It was my fault for falling in love right back despite knowing the consequences. It was my fault that Finn stole extra food for my birthday and ended up being killed for it.”

Clarke inhales a sharp pant that does nothing to calm her down. Lexa is looking at her with desperate eyes, unsure of what to do or say to help. “Clarke…” She begins, only for Clarke to silence her with her own voice.

“He did it for me.” Her voice drops hoarsely, the pent up emotion she hasn’t allowed herself to feel for months finally seeping out. “He died for me.”

“That was his choice, Clarke.” Lexa attempts to reassure. “Not yours.”

Clarke drops her head into her hands, overwhelmed by everything. She has opened the gates to a blocked off corner of her mind and can’t hold back the flood that has come pouring out. She heaves her shoulders as the tears she has held back make their way out.

“I lost someone special to me too.” Lexa whispers, drawing Clarke’s gaze to hers.

Clarke swallows the lump in her throat. “Tell me.” Lexa tightens her jaw, a sign that she is starting to close off. “Please.”

Clarke’s plead relaxes Lexa’s shoulders as she slowly raises her eyes to Clarke’s.

“Her name was Costia.” Lexa’s jaw remains tight despite the very subtle loosening of her posture as Clarke watches. “She was captured by the Imperial Army, whose… Emperor believed she knew my secrets. Because she was mine.” 

Clarke notices how long Lexa hesitates on the word Emperor but doesn’t comment, afraid that it may put an end to Lexa’s moment of vulnerability. 

“They tortured her…” Lexa turns her head away from Clarke as raises her chin once again, an attempt to straighten her posture. “Killed her. Cut off her head.”

“I’m sorry.” Clarke whispers, unprepared for the heaviness of the revelation. 

“Don’t be.” Lexa shakes her head, tilting her chin down just the slightest. “I thought I’d never get over the pain, but I did.”

Clarke scoffs. “How?”

“By recognizing it for what it is.” She turns her head, finally meeting Clarke’s gaze. “Weakness.”

“What is? Love?” When a nod from Lexa is the only response she receives she continues. “So you just stopped caring? About everyone?” 

Another nod. 

“I could never do that.” The thought has Clarke clutching at the metallic hilt holstered on her hip.

“Then you put the people you care about, and the entire galaxy, in danger and the pain will never go away.” Clarke continues to watch her sadly, an expression of remorse on her face. “Our emotions are too dangerous to allow them to control us. To be a Jedi is to be alone. We are not a part of the people we swear to protect.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” Clarke’s eyes trace the sharp slope of Lexa’s jaw, who is suddenly looking away from her again.

“Yes.” Lexa sighs. “It does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i took so long to finally get this out there. i just started my first semester of college so it's been quite a transitional period for me. i hope to update a bit more frequently once i get settled. i hope you enjoyed the chapter though! once again, follow me on tumblr @ carmillacatstein.


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